John and Joan Nkata and their daughter Maria are fighting to keep two adult daughters from being deported. / The Enquirer/Mark Curnutte

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A West Price Hill husband and wife from Malawi are fighting to keep their family together.

John and Joan Nkata, granted permanent U.S. residency two years ago, appealed this week a federal immigration judge's decision to deport two of their three daughters.

"I am a helpless father, I have exhausted everything I know," said John Nkata, 50, a Christian minister who has worked full time in hospice care for 18 years.

The good and bad news, their attorney said, is that the motion written Wednesday and filed with the federal Board of Immigration Appeals will buy the sisters another year or so in this country.

"I've got a steep hill to climb," said Douglas Weigle, an immigration lawyer since 1979. "This is the most egregious case I've ever seen."

On Jan. 31, the Nkatas and their three daughters appeared in immigration court in Cleveland.

Judge Thomas Janas ordered Tapiwa Nkata, 25, and Dominique Nkata, 21, deported. They were brought from their native Malawi and have lived legally in the United States since they were ages 4 years and 11 months.

Malawi is one of the world's least developed nations, landlocked in southeastern Africa with a population of 15 million. Chichewa and English are official languages.

The Nkatas, who came on an education visa in 1990, were granted permanent resident status in January 2009, based on the hardship that their deportation would cause their daughter, Maria, 11 at the time, a U.S. citizen born at Good Samaritan Hospital. The family had applied for permanent resident status as a whole, but the presiding judge declined to address the daughters' claims at that time because they had no qualifying relative.

Another immigration judge ruled two weeks ago that the deportation of Tapiwa and Dominique would not, in the words of federal immigration law adopted in 1996, "result in exceptional and extremely unusual hardship to the alien's spouse, parent or child who is a citizen of the United States or alien legally admitted for permanent residence."

The judge ruled the older sisters do not contribute financially to the household.

"Somehow, deporting my daughters is not seen as extreme hardship on their parents, let alone their 13-year-old sister," said Joan Nkata, 47, who works full time in the accounting department of Hydrotech Inc. in West Chester.

The sisters met every condition for permanent resident status: They'd lived continually in this United States for at least 10 years, were of good moral character and had no criminal record.

The decision to deport the sisters goes against an immigration trend nationwide. The Department of Homeland Security is reviewing thousands of pending deportation cases and moving to dismiss ones filed against immigrants who have no serious criminal records, according to reports in the Miami Herald and the Houston Chronicle.

The number of cases awaiting resolution in federal immigration courts reached an all-time high of 267,752 at the end of 2010, according to the Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse at Syracuse University.

The backlog increased 33 percent since 2008. The average length of time cases have been waiting has grown to 467 days, about 15 months. In Ohio, the Syracuse-based center reports, 3,623 cases are pending, and the average wait is 408 days. Weigle is scheduling court appearances in Cleveland, the state's only immigration court, for other clients 14 to 18 months out.

The Nkata family understands the frustration of waiting with uncertain status and a cloudy future.

The couple tried since 2002 to achieve permanent resident status for the four of them and went without a lawyer until 2006. The parents have since declared bankruptcy because of staggering legal bills and expenses related to trying to stay together in the United States.

"We have tried to do everything right," said John Nkata, who has a plan for the once unthinkable. If his two oldest daughters are deported, he will go with them to Malawi and leave his wife and youngest daughter behind.

"She deserves the same opportunity the other girls had," he said.

John Nkata has worked the same job for many years after completing his studies at Cincinnati Bible College. The family has the support of many people in their community. John Nkata cared for the dying father of Tom Miele, a neighbor in West Price Hill.

The Nkata family lives in a house owned by Miele, who is helping by allowing them to skip rent the next few months.

"It is beyond my comprehension. America is better than this," Miele said of the decision to deport the two daughters. "These are good, solid people. They are the kind of people our country should be happy to embrace."

While growing up, the older girls heard one primary message from their parents: "Don't waste your opportunities. Work hard in school."

Tapiwa and Dominique were honors graduates of Walnut Hills High School.

Tapiwa was a 2007 summa cum laude graduate from the University of Cincinnati with a degree in finance. She moved to Los Angeles to work for an investment firm and has a night job as a comedy club manager.

"I can't imagine my life in Africa," she said. "I am an American. I know this culture and speak this language. I pledge allegiance to this flag."

As he announced his decision, the immigration judge said something to Tapiwa and Dominique that struck Tapiwa as odd. "He said, 'You ladies are quite lovely. Any country would be happy to have you.'

"Yes, except the United States," she said later.

Even after the decision was announced, Tapiwa said her mind turned to getting back to work in Los Angeles.

Dominique, a University of Cincinnati senior studying chemistry, works part-time in University Hospital's emergency department. She plans to become a cardiologist but can't apply to medical school without permanent resident or citizenship status.

At age 11, she underwent open-heart surgery at Cincinnati Children's Hospital Medical Center to repair a life-threatening heart condition that requires lifelong follow-up, her doctor wrote.

"As long as she has understood the (immigration) situation, Maria would say to me, 'It's going to be all right, right? You're going to stay, right?' " Dominique said. "We were driving home from Cleveland, and we were sobbing. Maria looked at me and said in a meek voice, 'Dominique, please don't go.' "

Immigrant children living in limbo often aren't allowed to get a driver's license or work when their peers do.

"So many things are hard," Dominique said, "but we got through them because we always told ourselves, 'One day, it will be over, and we will be allowed to stay here for good.' Now, I can't say that. I don't know what will happen."